


Winter's End

by voleuse



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-15
Updated: 2004-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-06 15:53:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Promises can't always be made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter's End

**Author's Note:**

> Mid-S5, no spoilers. Title and lyrics taken from Sarah McLachlan's "Fear."

_i. morning smiles_

Buffy calls Wolfram and Hart on a Thursday morning.

Angel's in a meeting when she calls, attempting to set down an agenda while Spike crushes beer cans against the conference table and Illyria wanders around the room like a predator, despite his repeated requests for her to leave.

The door opens and Harmony peeps in, an uncertain expression on her face. "Call for you, boss."

"I'm in a meeting, Harmony," he replies, grinding his teeth.

"It's Buffy."

Everyone freezes, except for Illyria.

Angel, carefully, doesn't look at Spike, and leaves the meeting without a word.

_ii. innocent, unknowing_

"Buffy?" He clutches his phone.

"Hey, Angel." Her voice sounds distant, an echo on the line. "How's it going at Evil Central?"

He bristles. "We're not evil!"

"Right." Her voice is ripe with humor, and he realizes she sounds older than he remembers.

"What can I do for you?"

"A girl can't call an old boyfriend for no reason at all?"

He sighs. "Buffy."

"Fine, fine." There's a pause. "I need a favor."

"Okay. What do you need?"

"God, I feel ridiculous. Like a spy, but without the cool outfits." She laughs. "Seriously, though, we think there might be a slayer in North Korea, but we can't get across the border very easily."

"You need our help." He feels a strum of pride in his chest. "I'll make it happen."

"Thanks, Angel. You're the best." Another pause. "I'll be in L.A. next week. Can we meet then?"

"Sure."

"Good."

After he hangs up, Angel starts making calls.

_iii. speaks to me of comfort_

Buffy arrives at Wolfram and Hart on a Wednesday evening, looking like...well, like Buffy walking into an evil law firm. That is, tiny, beautiful, and defiant as hell.

Angel meets her in the lobby, forestalling the inevitable confrontation with Harmony, and ushers her to his office.

She takes a seat in a large, plush chair, and he sits behind his desk.

They don't talk for a full minute.

Finally, Buffy rolls her eyes. "This is ridiculous."

Angel nods. "Want to get out of here?"

"A world of yes."

"I know a place."

They take the elevator down to the parking garage.

_iv. in this lonely place_

She stifles a laugh as they enter the parking garage, and he pauses in front of the Viper. "What?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing, just..." She gestures widely. "Boys are all the same, y'know?"

He ignores that, opting to devote his attention to the various sets of keys available. He finally settles on the SLK-320, because it seems like a car that Buffy would like.

She does, cooing as she slides into the convertible, though she mutters, "Showoff," as Angel revs the engine.

He ignores that, too.

_v. better than to fall_

They drive into Hollywood, and Angel parks under another office building, not as imposing as Wolfram and Hart, but equally impressive.

As they stroll outside, Buffy wrinkles her nose at the neighborhood, equal parts seedy and expensive. "You take me to the nicest places."

He shrugs. "We're not there yet."

They turn into an alley, and Angel nods to a thin man leaning against the wall, smoking nonchalantly.

"Here for the show?" the man queries, stubbing his cigarette on a brick windowsill before searching for another one.

"Yeah." Angel hands him a twenty. "Can we go in?"

The man shrugs, nods his head toward the door. "Knock yourself out."

_vi. wind in time_

It's a small venue, lit darkly and floors sticky with spilt beer. They take a table near the back, wobbling on the rickety chairs before leaning against the equally rickety table.

A slim, small woman stops by and asks if they'd like anything. Angel orders two coffees and a brownie, glancing at Buffy to confirm the order.

Buffy looks around the room, taking in the posters taped on the walls, edges curling, the red curtain framing the stage, the joking staff behind the bar. "Why here?"

Their order arrives, and Angel hands off another twenty, waving off the woman's proffered change. "For the brownies, mostly," he quips.

Buffy takes a bite of it, eyes widening as she chews. "Good choice."

_vii. temptation will destroy_

The music plays loudly, and the room is filling up. They have to lean their heads together in order to carry on a conversation.

It isn't a hardship.

Angel hands Buffy a disk with the requested information. "I left the documents you need in my office, but everything you need to know is in there."

"Darn." Buffy twirls the disk between her fingers. "And I left my computer in Rome."

Angel blinks.

"Kidding, Angel." Buffy slips the disk into her purse, covers one of his hands with both of hers. "Thank you."

"Not a problem." He smiles.

"I'm glad you're using your evil for good."

"I'm not evil!"

_viii. never ending hunger_

The music from the loudspeakers cuts abruptly, and a guy comes onstage, guitar in hand. He's small and wiry, pale-skinned and purple-haired.

Buffy gasps. "Oz!"

From the stage, he nods at Angel, smiles at Buffy, and begins playing.

She turns to Angel. "Did you know he'd be here?"

"Every third Tuesday," Angel replies. "I thought you'd like to hear him play."

She holds his hand through the short set--five songs, maybe six--a grin on her face the entire time.

_ix. nothing to give_

Oz chats with them after his set, for a short while, then disappears, another gig calling.

Buffy glances at her watch. "I should get going, too, Angel. I promised Dawn I'd call her, and--"

"Not a problem," Angel interrupts, and they stand, dodge other patrons until they get to the back of the room. As they're about to exit, however, a familiar song starts to play, haunting and full.

They both stop, and look at each other.

Angel holds his hand out. "One dance?"

Buffy smiles, nods. Steps into his arms as if it was five years ago.

They dance.

_x. so much to lose_

When the song ends, Angel bends his head down, and she rises on her toes.

Their lips meet, and everything else disappears in that kiss.

When they part again, Angel breathes in the scent of her. "Remember?" he murmurs.

"Yeah." Buffy smiles, tears in her eyes. "I have to go."

"I know."

They walk out to the car slowly, Angel's arm wrapped around her shoulders, her hand strong against his waist. They don't talk on the way to her hotel, and Angel walks her to her door.

"When," Angel starts, then hesitates. "Will you be back?"

Buffy looks at her hands, takes his. Looks into his eyes, and if he had a heart, it would have stopped.

"Do you want me to come back?"

He doesn't need to answer.

He drives back to Wolfram and Hart with a smile on his face.


End file.
